Digging Up the Dead (The Gravedigger Series Book 2)

by Willie E. Dalton

  Meanwhile, Soren poured some body wash onto a washcloth and began working it into a lather. He held it out to me and I shook my head, letting him keep it in his hand.

  “Will you wash me?” I asked.

  Without a word he began gently washing my body from the neck down with the soapy cloth. He washed my back, and then down my front. As he went across my breasts I could see his body growing with want, but he never acknowledged it.

  He was on his knees in front of me washing my legs, and I looked down at him. There was barely enough room for both of us in the shower, and he’d gone out of his way to bathe me.

  The spray from the shower was running down his face into his thick blonde beard and he blinked through the mist at me.

  “Soren,” I said.

  He stood up. “Yes?”

  “I need to feel you—I need you.” While I said it, I let my hand slide down his body to grasp just how much he needed to feel me too.

  He closed his eyes and sighed, nearly shuddering against me.

  He pushed me against the wall of the shower, and I leaned in to say, “Be easy with me—this time.”

  In our previous love making Soren had shown me the joys of rough sex, and I loved being pinned and helpless under his weight. But I needed something else from him this time.

  He kissed me, and it was the sweetest, slowest kiss he had ever given me. He touched me with large, calloused fingers that moved lightly and delicately across my skin, giving me goosebumps even under the warm water.

  “Stop me at any point if you need to,” he whispered as he laid soft kisses in a line down my neck.

  We kissed and touched in the water until we needed things to move along. With the size of his body and the design of the shower, we quickly saw shower sex was not on the menu.

  Soren turned off the water and scooped me up in his arms. Both of us were still soaking wet, but he put me in bed just the same.

  He was warm on top of me, and I licked the water droplets from his neck and chest as his body moved in and out of mine.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face against him.

  “Helena, look at me,” he said.

  I laid my head back against the pillow, and he stopped moving. There was so much emotion on his face.

  I cupped his face in my hand. “Soren, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. I want to be everything you need me to be right now, but it’s killing me. I need to know: are you with me, or are you wishing I was him?”

  His gray eyes were fighting back tears. I felt terrible. Not once had I considered how he was feeling—of course he would be wondering that.

  I smiled at him, and pushed him so that we flipped and I was on top. I looked down at him and kissed his lips first, then I left light kisses all over his face.

  “I do not want you to be Raphael. I loved him, but there was only one him. When I am with you, it’s because I want to be with you. I cared about you before this stuff even happened, and the way you’ve taken care of me has only made me realize how truly amazing you are,” I said. Slowly, as I allowed my words to sink in, I began working my hips again.

  A smile crossed his face, then his eyes lost their sadness and filled with desire as he watched me move above him.

  Slowly at first, I rocked my hips back and forth letting myself savor every movement. I moved a little faster and took him in a little deeper, closing my eyes from time to time so I could stay focused. I felt Soren run his fingers down my back, freshly beaded with sweat. I opened my eyes and grinned at him as I ran my fingers through my damp hair and took a long deep breath. He pulled me down to him into a deep kiss, with his tongue fierce against mine. I made sure not to lose my rhythm, and cried out against his mouth as his hips thrusted up to match my pace. It was one of those times when you were so in sync, so lost in the passion, that you knew you wouldn’t be able to maintain it very long, but you would give it everything you had for as long as you could stand it.

  Soren’s breathing changed, and the eager little noises he made were closer together. Suddenly he grabbed my hips and flipped me back onto my back, pulling out of me. I groaned, and not in a happy way.

  “Soon, sweet Hel, but not like this.” He took my hand in his and kissed it.

  I sighed. Soren had this rule about not being able to finish unless he was totally committed to the woman he was with. I had mixed feelings about this rule, but nonetheless I indulged him.

  We laid together, spent, and more content than I had been in many hours.

  I didn’t sleep, but at some point my mind stilled and I realized I should be happy for Raphael. His soul was settled; more likely than not he was in a better place, maybe even heaven. I shouldn’t mourn him, not if I loved him. I should be happy for him.

  I couldn’t help but wonder about the circumstances of his death; but that was natural, and it didn’t matter, I supposed. Everything dies; the how was trivial.

  My eyes had been closed for a long time, just in rest. When I opened them Soren looked at me.

  I smiled at him and I felt the joy of being with him spread across my face.

  He sighed and kissed me on the forehead. “I am so happy to see you smile.”

  “I think I’m going to be all right,” I said.

  “I never doubted you. What would you like to do today?” he asked.

  “Today” was a relative term since there was no real day or night here. It was much too complicated to try to phrase the passing of time otherwise, though.

  “I’d like to go into the city and get a coffee, I think. Maybe shop a little for some homey-feeling things. Do you feel like joining me?” I knew Soren wasn’t big on going into the city often. And I was feeling better, but didn’t really want to be alone just yet. I knew that soon I would need to go back into the fields to dig again. I had buried so many people, and I dug up a lot of people as well, but digging up Raphael had instilled a fear in me unlike anything I had felt before. I knew I needed to deal with it, but not just yet.

  “If you want me to go with you, I will,” said Soren. “Or would you rather meet up with Grace?”

  “I’d like to be with you,” I said, and then I laughed. “We should probably shower again.”

  “Separately, so we can actually get out of here,” he commented.

  I nodded in agreement.

  “You go first,” he said. “I’m going to find Billy and let him know where we’ll be.”

  “OK.” I kissed him and headed towards the bathroom.

  I still hurt, and I tried not to let my mind focus on the horrible events of the previous… day. Time heals all wounds, right? I could only hope that worked the same after death.

  It was Soren’s turn in the shower, while I put on some makeup and fixed my hair with the new curling iron. The new makeup and hair items were part of my prep for the big romantic night with Soren that I had planned. That idea had come crashing down, but I could still look nice while we went out for the day.

  I thought of the new lingerie I had gotten as well. I smiled; I definitely wanted him to see me in it sometime soon. It might not be a bad idea to grab a bottle of liquor while we were out, too.

  Of course he was showered, dressed, and ready before I could get half of my hair finished.

  He eyed my curling iron suspiciously. “What is that thing? I’ve seen them in shops, but never knew what they were for.”

  “It makes my hair pretty and curly. Did women in your era not curl their hair?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Yes, but with bits of cloth before bed. I never really saw the point. They all wore their hair up, unless they were rolling it or washing it.” He rolled his eyes.

  I turned to him and smiled.

  He frowned. “Are you wearing paint on your face?”

  I laughed. “Makeup? Yes. Surely you’ve seen makeup before.”

  “Just on women here, more recently. We didn’t have anything like that in my village. I don’t see why you’d want to do that to yours
elf,” he grumbled.

  “Haven’t you heard of warriors painting their faces for battles, or shaman’s painting their faces for rituals? Makeup can change the way you feel about yourself, or help get you in the right frame of mind.” I made a kissy face at him with my red lips.

  He thought it over. “How does makeup make you feel?”

  “It makes me feel sexy, and pretty. I stay dirty with digging all the time; it’s nice to know I can look good too.” I winked a heavily mascaraed eye at him.

  Soren smiled, and then frowned at me again.

  “Good grief, what’s wrong now?” I asked him.

  “You are very beautiful without makeup, but I find myself very drawn to you with it on too. The way it accentuates your eyes and lips—it makes me want to do unspeakable things to you.” He gave me a look so hot that I barely noticed the curling iron laying against my finger. Then I noticed.

  “Damn!” I said, jerking my finger away from the barrel. Then I laughed and looked at him. “I’m glad you find me beautiful both ways, and I want to know more about those unspeakable acts when we get home later,” I said.

  It dawned on me that when I said “home” I was thinking of my place. Soren had been staying with me so much I had nearly forgotten he had a home of his own. Suddenly I was thinking a lot about how fast we were moving, and what exactly is was we were doing.

  I was brought out of my heavy thoughts by hearing a pained noise come out of Soren. I glanced over to see him staring at a little red burn mark on his finger.

  “You touched the curling iron, didn’t you?” I rolled my eyes.

  “Why would you hold something that hot so close to your face and head? That thing is dangerous.” He put his burning finger in his mouth and wrinkled his brow.

  “Beauty is painful sometimes.” I took his hand in mine, kissed the injury and gently blew some cool air on it until his face softened.

  He looked me over, and then held my gaze. “And painful things can be beautiful.”

  We left my house and turned left, walking away from the brown, seemingly lifeless fields of dead people waiting to be dug up. I was happy to be heading into town. Normally I enjoyed my work, and in life I loved being a gravedigger and caretaker of the large rural cemetery. Digging up Raphael was going to leave some scars, I was afraid.

  As we walked I kept my eyes straight ahead, focusing on moving forward, literally. Soren and I were arm in arm, and I was happy to have his stability beside me.

  “What do you want to shop for today?” Soren asked me.

  I thought for a moment. “Maybe a couple of rugs, and I’d like to have a pretty chair for reading—ooh and some books. I can get books here right?” I hadn’t shopped for many things here besides the basics.

  “Yes, you can get books here. Obviously, not new books, but I think we can find enough to keep you entertained,” he laughed.

  I felt myself smile. I had really missed reading.

  “Coffee first?” he asked as we headed down the street with the familiar brown awning. The little coffee shop had been the first business I explored when I arrived—after being assigned, of course.

  “I’d kind of like some food too,” I said.

  “There’s a cafe on the next street where we can get both.” He pulled my arm in closer so that I was walking right up against him.

  Turning right down the alleyway, I saw the grand cathedral-style entrance into the Vampire Quarter. It was lovely and foreboding at the same time. As beautiful as it was, I knew better than to go in there exploring. It wasn’t terribly safe for those of us without fangs.

  It was still in the distance when we turned down the other street, and I let out an unconscious exhalation of relief.

  Understanding my sigh, Soren remarked, “Yeah, not my favorite place either.”

  My best friend was a vampire, and my previous lover was, too. Boude (the ex), was now Grace’s boyfriend, and her employer Andreas (also a vamp) was another acquaintance of mine. They weren’t bad guys, but I didn’t trust them all that much.

  Really though, the reason for my discomfort with vampires was Rasputin. Yes, that Rasputin. He had been a gaunt, half crazed, damn near cannibalistic monster when I met him. He attacked me—twice. The story was that his physical body was trapped, unable to get fresh living blood, so he deteriorated. It was on the mission to rescue him that Boude and Grace… got close; and it was Rasputin who took Grace’s eye in a starving rampage.

  The mission was successful, and he looked like himself now instead of a rotting corpse with fangs. But there was something so dark in his eyes, something so evil that it wiped out any trace of pity I might have held for him.

  I loved seeing Grace, but only at her work or when she would come visit me.

  “That’s the place,” Soren said, pointing at a little bistro.

  Small tables were staggered along the sidewalk, draped with white linen tablecloths, and sporting little glass vases with red carnations popping out. We took the only empty table, and were quickly handed menus and poured glasses of water.

  Surprisingly, I was starving. I ordered coffee, french toast with bacon, and a side of fresh fruit. Soren ordered a plate that had eggs, sausage and hashbrowns.

  The coffee was good, and the french toast was wonderful. Soren seemed happy with his choices as well.

  After we finished eating we started our walk through the city. I browsed in several different little shops, hoping that I would know what I was looking for when I saw it.

  As we walked I realized I had never walked quite so far in the city before. I kept my trips short and convenient: coffee shop, assignment building, boutique, and on rare occasions the Vampire Quarter.

  Soren held my hand as we walked, and at times I could almost forget that we were dead, strolling through the streets of the underworld. Maybe this was what would be called the new “normal.”

  In one of the shops I picked up a few colorful throw pillows, a silver lamp with a bright turquoise shade, and a cute little nightstand to place beside my bed—for the lamp, of course. The store offered to deliver the nightstand, which was nice, so Soren didn’t have to carry it all the way back to the fields for me.

  “Having a good time?” Soren asked.

  “I am,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I still need to get a few books though.”

  “There’s a store just before you get to the wall,” he said.

  I was excited to head to a bookstore, but the wall remark had me puzzled. “What wall?” I asked.

  “You’ve never been to the wall?”

  “Soren, I’ve not been even this far before, and I don’t remember seeing a wall on the map I was given.”

  “Everything that’s not the city or fields is surrounded by a wall.”

  I suddenly felt claustrophobic; I didn’t want to be walled in anywhere. “Why are we walled in here?” My voice was high and nearing panicked. “What’s on the other side?”

  Soren wrinkled his brow at me like I might be losing my mind. “It just walls off our world, I guess. I’ve never heard of anything being on the other side.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course there is something on the other side of the wall. If there wasn’t, why would there be a wall?”

  His exasperation turned to thoughtfulness. “I don’t know, maybe for protection.”

  “We are dead; we live with vampires. What the hell do we need protection from?” I asked.

  “Maybe that’s where they put the ghouls, or something.” Soren shrugged and half smiled.

  I stopped walking and stared at him with wide eyes. “Ghouls? Are you fucking serious?”

  “C’mon, let’s go get you some books,” he laughed.

  I had no idea what ghouls were, or if he was serious. I decided not to ask, and to just try to enjoy my day.

  It turned out that the bookstore was right at the edge of this mysterious wall I had just learned about. The wall was plain, and blended in with everything else in the city—just gray. It didn’t grab your
attention, even though it was tall enough to blend into the sky. A wall that high that encompassed the whole city should have been commanding, even menacing, but it was just… there. I found it very strange that I didn’t feel anything about it while staring at it; but the thought of it, and what it could be hiding, bothered me greatly.

  Soren held the door to the bookstore open for me, but I couldn’t fight my compulsion to touch the wall. I breezed past him and made my way to stand before its gray surface. Standing in front of it, I tried to guess what it was made from before I put my hand to it. It was the right color, but didn’t appear to be concrete or steel. A strange thought came to mind: it looked almost like rubber. I brought my fingertips up to lightly touch the wall, and was surprised at how smooth the texture was. The wall wasn’t built of rubber, but felt like running your hands across the top of a body of water without breaking the surface tension. The wall made space for my fingers and hand, but I couldn’t push past whatever tension was holding it in place.

  I pulled my hand back from the wall, and tiny ripples appeared where my fingers had been. The wall was some kind of liquid.

  I looked over to see Soren testing out the feel of the wall, like I had done. He was amazed.

  “It’s a liquid,” he said as he poked at the wall and watched the smooth ripples spread.

  “It has to be some kind of magic,” I told him.

  He nodded and we both looked up, trying to see where the wall ended and the sky began, but it was impossible to tell.

  “I want to know what’s on the other side,” I said.

  “I’m pretty sure you should just leave it alone,” said Soren.

  I didn’t answer, but just kept staring at the wall. In my peripheral vision I saw Soren shaking his head. He knew I wasn’t going to give this up.

  Finally Soren managed to drag me away from the wall and all of my questions about it, and pulled me into the bookstore. From the outside, the store looked small and boring, but inside were rows upon rows of shelves that seemed to stretch back for miles. I knew I could easily get lost for days just looking around in here.